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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24052387">wasteland, baby</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifis/pseuds/scifis'>scifis</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>the end of all things (a whisper) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Boyz (Korea Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, M/M, Minor Character Death, Past Ji Changmin | Q/Bae Joonyoung | Jacob, Polyamory, Q-centric</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:34:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,907</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24052387</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifis/pseuds/scifis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know,” Chanhee starts. He always tries to say something, always tries to fill the silence with words not even he holds meaning to. “I think we would’ve been quite something, the four of us, if everything was still normal.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Choi Chanhee | New/Ji Changmin | Q, Choi Chanhee | New/Ji Changmin | Q/Lee Juyeon/Moon Hyungseo | Kevin, Ji Changmin | Q/Lee Juyeon, Ji Changmin | Q/Moon Hyungseo | Kevin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>the end of all things (a whisper) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1735195</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>122</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>wasteland, baby</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is my first finished fic, hi! its taken me months to actually finish it, and this universe is one that i hold very close to my heart. title from “wasteland, baby” by hozier! english is not my first language, so im sorry if theres any mistakes. </p><p>hope you enjoy &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s months into the apocalypse that Changmin thinks “this isn’t how I imagined it’’, because it isn’t, because the apocalypse is so much emptier, so much quieter than he imagined it to be — people don’t have much to say when there’s no one around to hear them, and as much as Kevin, Chanhee and Juyeon try to fill all of the stupid, scary silences with playful banter, the world around them is still so quiet Changmin keeps thinking he’ll drown in it someday. Thinks he’ll sink, sink, sink into the arms of the unwelcoming, hollow space that surrounds them at every step, the air thick with broken promises of a better future.</p><p>(“I’d much rather die than be thrown into this weird kind of in-between these guys are living in,’’ he’d told Jacob one day when the world was still the World, when they were safe and together and felt invincible.</p><p>Jacob had laughed his way into Changmin’s lips, loud and present and home. “Aren’t we always living in the in-between, though?’’ he’d murmured against the other’s bright orange hair, old reruns of a silly zombie-themed show playing on the TV in front of them. “You’re born, you get to the in-between, you die. I’d like to live through whatever is thrown my way like they’re doing, as well.’’</p><p>Jacob lost his life around the first month after the World became Nothing, and Changmin never saw him live through what was thrown his way.)</p><p>Chanhee stirs in his sleep next to Changmin’s side, curled up in all three of his blankets in a way that makes him look small. The boy who’s awake knows he should be sleeping, too, knows he should get some rest in order to be helpful later, when they’re walking and walking and walking. His mind runs and runs trying to get somewhere away from where he is then, laying down on the hard floor of a two-story apartment they found just outside Seoul. Changmin has gotten used to wanting to be somewhere else, especially when it’s late at night, when he knows Danger is out there and kills.</p><p>Changmin wishes he could be with Jacob again, loud and present like back in the World, wishes he could stop feeling like a glitch in whatever simulation Nothing is making them live in.</p><p>Most days he feels nothing — it makes him curl into himself more than Chanhee in his three blankets, makes him look so small he can’t even recognize his own reflection in the mirror. He feels like he isn’t there, like he isn’t existing, like if Juyeon didn’t remind him about food, Changmin would starve to death unintentionally.</p><p>In those days when minutes stretch into hours like they’re lazy, Changmin wishes he could be more like the boys around him. Wishes he could be as sharp around the edges as Juyeon, never letting his guard down because although they’re all the same age he’s the <em>oldest</em> and he has to protect them, facade only crumbling when they’re as safe as one can get in Nothing, tucked away inside whatever shelter they’ve managed to find for the time being, smile so blinding Changmin almost calls it beautiful in his head, sometimes. Juyeon, who is all sharp edges and rough corners but overflows with so much softness whenever he gets to be <em>him</em>, just <em>Juyeon</em>, kissing the top of their heads and murmuring a soft “try to rest’’ before leaving for the first watch, holding their hands when they walk down a street they used to be familiar with but aren’t anymore, not in Nothing; taking the role of a leader when they all know they would do just fine without one — Changmin thinks if love could take the form of something, it would in the way Juyeon holds his body and lends him a shoulder to cry on when everything gets too much for him.</p><p>Changmin wishes he could be endless and displayed bare like Chanhee, being serious whenever he has to be, using the smarts he has been gifted with whenever they need him to, clinging to them whenever he gets the chance to the point of limbs tingling from being unused for too long. Endless and outstretched and seen everywhere, heard everywhere, found everywhere Chanhee, who drools while he sleeps but lives so fully, brings so many <em>almost</em>’s into his life of <em>not-quite-there</em>’s it fills Changmin’s heart with something one could probably call love, in different circusmtances.</p><p>In those days, Changmin wishes he could be like Kevin, who lets Changmin hold his pinky finger when they’re about to fall asleep and he is scared he’ll dream of Danger, Kevin who looks like black ink spilled in a new notebook (unpredictable and messy and comforting and so, so close to being familiar), Kevin who kisses just like he laughs (vivid and unrestrained), Kevin who, above all, still laughs, who understands. Kevin who is not Jacob, but is instead so different, so far from it, full to the point Changmin wonders if home could have more than one meaning.</p><p>(Jacob is killed by Danger in the first few days after they meet the others, barely has a chance to engrave their names or the way their breathing sounds like when they fall asleep to his mind like Changmin has done by now. Jacob keeps trying to convince himself that the radio is telling lies, that Nothing is still the World, somehow, in a sick, twisted way.</p><p>He goes out at night. Before, when it was still safe, Changmin had jokingly told him he’d be the first to die because Jacob never believed in evil — now that they’re in Nothing, evil turns into Danger, and since Jacob didn’t believe when they were safe, he still doesn’t, and is the first one to die, an awful prediction Changmin wishes he hadn’t made.</p><p>They find his body as morning comes. It looks cold, lifeless, but whole — Danger never takes anything except from life. Changmin loses home then and wonders if death, when it comes, would be as beautiful and gentle to him as it was to Jacob.</p><p>Juyeon, Chanhee, Kevin and Changmin don’t dare touch his body.)</p><p> </p><p> · </p><p> </p><p>His hair is black and he doesn’t have much to fight for as he stands near the window of yet another two-story apartment they found just outside of Seoul, holding a gun he doesn’t remember loading, eyes trained to the darkness outside for any signs of Danger. These days, Changmin doesn’t really know what Danger is, what it stands for; he imagines it has something to do with the monsters the radio said long ago only come out at night, the ones who took home away from him, but he’s never seen one, so he can’t be sure.</p><p>Danger has been laughing at their faces since the beginning, Changmin muses, only showing Himself to wipe away the fact that He was seen with the help of death.</p><p>(The radio explained something that reminded Changmin vaguely of the aliens he saw on TV: humanoid, pitch-black, dangerous. Bearers of death and evil.</p><p>It was all he needed to hear in order to avoid them, actually. Ghosts he could deal with, but death and evil and the empty vastness of Nothing drove Changmin insane as soon as they came. He would walk hand in hand with Jacob searching for food and water after the first few broadcasts near the end of the World, eyes closed and a tablecloth on top of them, singing lullabies to himself in order not to freak out.</p><p>Jacob would kiss both his cheeks as soon as they got to the safety of his apartment, promising “We’re here, we’re whole, you’re okay, baby. You were so good’’ to his temples as Changmin started to shake.)</p><p>He has always been weak, he muses as well, but now he is the kind of weak who carries a gun around to protect those who make him feel like he belongs. He is the kind of weak who only crumbles when the circumstances allow him to, and he ignores the stinging thought that tells him the circumstances don’t really seem to do so these days.</p><p>After his body warns him that his shift is ending, Changmin whispers in Chanhee’s ears a couple “wake up, sleepy head’’ and presses a few kisses to the older’s cheeks with a feeling one could probably call love, in different circusmtances. Chanhee’s eyes when he finally wakes up from his spot at Changmin’s feet near the window are warm like everything else in him — they bring Changmin back to big campuses in Universities and first meetings in libraries over stale coffee, of seeing each other again after years, crossing paths again by chance and almost crying in relief because Nothing is cruel but they were both from the World and could use someone they once knew.</p><p>“’M awake, Min.’’ Chanhee mumbles sleepily into the dusty pillow he’s collected somewhere. “Almost up. Promise.’’ and Changmin knows Chanhee is just gonna roll around and close his eyes again because it has been a tiring day for all four of them but Chanhee has especial sensitivity to heat and the weather outside is as hot as it hasn’t been in months — if they were to follow a calendar, Changmin would bet they were in June.</p><p>So he lets Chanhee sleep as he carefully climbs up the stairs to wake Juyeon up, says he’s covered a shift and a half at the window and hopes Juyeon can do the same so Chanhee can rest just for today. And Juyeon, ableist groggily, nods and grabs his own gun from under his pillow. His eyes are tired but so, so alive — they remind Changmin of frat parties back in the World and kisses that fit like puzzle pieces despite being shitfaced, remind him of blushing faces after seeing each other at class the week after and remembering how good it felt. “Go get him and bring him upstairs, I’ll just wash my face and be at the window in a second.’’</p><p>Chanhee weights nothing in Changmin’s arms, thin frame enveloped by no blanket, Nothing taking away the best part of health he had in the World. The boy stirs in his sleep, nuzzles his face closer to Changmin’s neck, breathes in his scent — Chanhee imagines Changmin has been an eucalyptus in his past life, the smell of it strong enough to drown even the thick layers of sweat that cover his body. Chanhee finds comfort in knowing at least the four of them smell good during the end of everything. He lets himself sleep again with that thought in mind.</p><p>Upstairs, Kevin is found stomach down in the sofa displayed on one of the rooms in a position Changmin knows cannot be comfortable. Setting Chanhee on the double sized bed Juyeon was sleeping in earlier, the black haired boy takes long strides towards the other man drooling on the sofa cushions.</p><p>When Kevin opens his eyes, they’re twinkling — Changmin is reminded of going to Canada with Jacob for the first time, feels bad that he thinks about it, but then Kevin is pulling him closer and closer until their lips touch and Canada is the last thing he can care about when Kevin runs his tongue through Changmin’s bottom lip, so invinting, so steady, so Kevin in every sense.</p><p>They break apart only when Changmin’s knees hurt from kneeling down by the couch for so long. “Come on,’’ he says to Kevin’s lips. “Let’s put you to bed, shall we?’’</p><p>Kevin grunts as he stands, a sound so mundane it absolutely shoudn’t flare something in Changmin the way it does. “Will I share the bed with Chanhee? He clings too close to me at night, too hot, don’t wanna.’’ the Canadian says. Changmin understands.</p><p>“Until we make sure that the single bed in the other room can take the weight of the two of us combined and not fall apart, yes, big boy, you’ll be sharing a bed with Chanhee.’’ he thinks he hears the boy beside him huff in annoyance, but stops thinking about it once he’s pulled into another kiss — this one is softer, less rushed, like somehow Kevin managed to take Sunday mornings in the World and mold them into it.</p><p>Changmin sighs against Kevin’s lips because he feels it, the affection dripping from the corners of Kevin’s mouth, feels the beginnings of home being spelled in the way the other’s hands find support on his waist. Kevin is Changmin’s to kiss at that moment, no Juyeon or Chanhee to ask for <em>kisses, too, please, Min</em>. He relishes in it — in the way whatever he has with them feels pure and uncomplicated and all over the place in such a good way.</p><p>(Jacob explains to him one night after they find the others that no one should be trusted — Changmin knows it’s bullshit, because he’s shared bad coffee with Chanhee and bad liquor with Juyeon and, well, apparently Kevin has been shared by both, at some point. The World has ended. No one cares.</p><p>Jacob whispers in his ears that Nothing probably turns people into monsters. Changmin argues they already have Danger to take on that role. Jacob sighs. He loves Changmin. He loves him so, so much, and wishes they could be young adults again and not survivors, not traumatized and broken and scared of everything survivors because the world had said they should.</p><p>They paint their hair black again, because they are both tired and blonde Jacob and orange Changmin are maybe, probably, most definitely dead somewhere in-between the World and Nothing. Jacob is gentle as he draws beautiful sounds out of Changmin that night, tucked away in the farthest corner of the building they find because they’re both kinda vocal and it ignites something in Jacob, the way Changmin’s mouth falls open perfectly just at the right moment, the way his bottom lip trembles and shakes, the way his eyes are closed so shut because of the pleasure.</p><p>It’s not that Jacob never gets to say it, because he does, but it feels shallow to use the word home to describe being with Changmin like that. And then he dies never mentioning again, so Changmin never really gets to know.)</p><p> </p><p> · </p><p> </p><p>Changmin cries silently as he hears Juyeon come up the stairs of yet another dirty, empty two-story apartment outside of Seoul — they switch from one house to another every once in a while, hoping to find water and some canned foods. Everything feels too much, from the sun greeting his body to the old sheets prickling his skin.</p><p>As he always does, Juyeon knows. He knocks lightly. The door is open. “Hey, Min. I’m going to sit next to you, okay?’’ and his voice is so soothing, so silky, so Juyeon, Changmin can’t help but nod. He hopes the older man sees it.</p><p>The tears stop for a moment as Changmin worries his bottom lip between his teeth. They stop as Juyeon climbs up the space near him, settling down so Changmin can rest his head against the olders shoulder. “I’m sorry, Juyeon.” he hears himself say.</p><p>Juyeon lets a small laugh leave his lips. “Me too. I’m very, very sorry, too, Changmin. Let’s go change our clothes.”</p><p>They’ve found shirts that fit them. A pair of jeans that looks way too big on Chanhee, but he’s adamant about wearing anyways. A tank top for Kevin, who has a pretty tattoo Changmin thinks must’ve hurt to be made on the skin on top of his ribs. The four of them, <em>the four of us</em>, he thinks, eat a bag of chips each — rationing had made them sick, in the beginning — and pretend they’re not hungry anymore as they pack their bags and leave the apartment.</p><p>Changmin holds Juyeon’s hand. They have nowhere to go. They walk anyway.</p><p>“You know,” Chanhee starts. He always tries to say something, always tries to fill the silence with words not even he holds meaning to. “I think we would’ve been quite something, the four of us, if everything was still normal.”</p><p>Chanhee smiles slightly, tilts his head, encourages himself to continue. Chanhee, Changmin knows, hates the silence. “Hyungseo and I could’ve met at an art gallery or something. I have never been to one, but I feel like if I did, Hyungseo would’ve been there.”</p><p>Next to him Juyeon laughs. It’s such a beautiful sound that Changmin finds himself smiling, too. Kevin joins them, looking at the other three with a spark in his eyes that could’ve been the reflection of something, but the younger isn’t sure. Chanhee has most of their attention for the rest of his speech.</p><p>(“I could fall in love with you, you know? It’s a dangerous thing.” They’re sharing an old blanket, Chanhee’s thigh on top of his, the smell of soju in the air. One bottle in and those were the words he had to listen to — Changmin didn’t think much of it, not when he whispered a “yeah, me too” back.</p><p>“Aren’t you in love with me already, baby?” It’s Kevin’s voice. A smile rests easy on his lips. He’s drunk, too. “And a bit in love with Juyeon as well?”</p><p>Chanhee doesn’t open his mouth for the rest of the night.)</p><p>They have nowhere to go. They walk anyway. Changmin wonders, once again, if home could have more than one meaning.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hi again :D i hope you liked this. i tried to make it light and it is so hard to do so, especially with this kind of fic. i also plan on making a sequel.. if anyones interested please let me know :D thank u for reading</p></blockquote></div></div>
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